Editing Chapter 25 - A Brief Visit

Days 53-54

Awaking the next morning, the party once more found themselves enveloped in the ubiquitous fog of swamp vapours. Around them pulsed an electric blue light given off by the enormous tree that towered above them.

Their gnome guides were eager to see the end of this adventure, and refused to return through the deadly swamp. The party paid them their dues and sent them on their way to skirt the elven city and return to their home via the relative safety of the roads. The gnomes were reluctant to part with one of their boats, but Aldur and Leandrie were successful in haggling them down to 100gp, half of their original demand and likely still more than it was worth.

With the gnomes safely off, the party made their way closer to the elven city. Fog still shrouded the ground, but they found a small hill on a nearby island that offered a clear view above the mist. The city consisted of uncountable platforms, twining around a row of trees that stretched from east to west in a rough line. The platforms were connected by an eclectic variety of arching and hanging bridges, as well as stairways and ladders. A short distance to their east, the city parted to allow the passage of the headwaters of the Folyoba River, which flowed into the swamp, through the Gena Wastes, and eventually past Wasteward Keep.

All of the trees of the elven city were giants, stretching their canopies far above the party, but towering even above its companions was the glowing tree that had guided their way across the swamp. Up close, it seemed to pulse with energy. A low-pitched hum permeated the air and could be felt by the adventurers through the soles of their boots. Beneath the roiling fog, the waters around the city were being churned into waves.

After weighing their options for approaching the city, the party decided to make for the glowing tree, using the fog to cover the approach of their boat. As the boat drew closer to the base of the tree the humming grew in volume. Bringing the boat in close between two giant, buttres-like roots, they could see a shoreline before them, with a small channel of water contuing on towards a bright blue light at the base of the tree, brighter than the blue glow that permeated the rest of the tree. Turning the boat towards the channel, they began their approach, but soon became aware of large figures moving about in the mist before them. Deciding that they were too exposed in the boat, they made for the shore, hoping that they would make it before being spotted.

As they rowed the boat up onto the shoreline, they realized that the earth itself was moving in sync with the humming sound, which was now loud enough to cause discomfort. As they stepped out of the boat, the tremors made their footing precarious, threatening to knock them prone if they didn't step carefully. The mist continued to swirl about them, and as it did so, they caught sight of a pair of lizardmen, much larger than those they had encountered the day before in the swamp. One approached them while the other turned back into the mist. As the remaining lizardmen neared them, he revealed himself to stand as tall as Jrak. With a sibilant voice, he demanded their purpose in a poorly pronounced elvish.

Wary of the imposing lizardman, the party did their best to mollify him. Leandrie sat down on the ground near the boat, while Trykaar and Aldur tried to extricate the party from a possibly hostile situation. Soon the second lizardman returned, bringing with him several companions, including one who introduced himself as Captain Blackscale. Not impressed with the party's explanation for being at the tree, he informed them that they were under arrest and demanded they surrender their weapons. Fearful of the lizardmen, the party meekly acquiesced.

The lizardmen led the party members up a precariously swaying stairway that climbed up along the side of the tree, to the lowest of the city's walkways above the fog. Proceeding cautiously along the trembling walkways, the city seemed empty, and they saw few elves. They followed a winding path that led from platform to platform, twisting around trees and occasionally passing through plazas that had been carved from the stumps of dead trees. Soon the captain stopped before a heavy doorway, knocking loudly with his ham-sized fist. It swung open to reveal a single, elderly-appearing elf, seated behind an orantely carved desk.

Appearing somewhat perturbed, the elf repeated the grilling they had received, demanding their purpose in visiting Tarminastir and the reason that they had approached the way they did, via boat from the swamp. He showed little indication of whether he believed their protestations of innocence, but informed them that Tarminastir was currently closed to visitors and demanded they depart immediately. 

Only minutes after their entry, they found themselves being escorted back out of the room, with more questions than answers. Their reptilian guards led them back to the tree and around it via a broad wooden avenue that continued to wind for some considerable distance through the city. They might soon have become lost if not for the fact that the city stretched westward along a thin, treed ridge that separated the lake from the swamp. On the lake side, they could see elegant boats tied up alongside stone and wooden docks. Beneath them lay the banks of fog, stretching southward into the swamp, where islands of vegetation occasionally poked through the mist. As they left the glowing tree behind them, they encountered more elves, many of them stopping to watch the party with curious or cautious eyes.

So the wound through the city, the glowing tree falling further and further behind them, until they found themselves before an ornately carved gate, being regarded curiously by elven guardsmen in fine-crafted mithril chain mail. The party's confiscated weapons were returned to them and they were sent on their way with warnings that they were not to return until the restrictions on visitors were lifted, in about a week.

Outside the gates, the party found themselves that the wooden avenue continued in a straight line above the fog, supported by branches and ropes from the surrounding trees. No other travellers were encountered as they continued for what remained of the day, stopping at night to climb down through the fog and make camp on the ground below. During the night, the rhythm of marching feet was heard on the walkway above, but none descended to trouble them.

In the morning, they resumed their journey along the walkway, which slowly descended to ground level as the swamp faded away to the south and the mists thinned. By mid-afternoon, they found themselves at ground level.

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